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Kiss
and Tell
have to tell mark shouldn’t have done won’t forgive was overcome strong emotions no no excuses that first touch phil stop remembering just his hand on my arm too ready that smile inviting voice don’t tell mark won’t ever know maybe not but suppose does anyone know or guess others have done it marriage survived liz and brad liz crying how could he how could he she forgave him women forgive I’d forgive mark or would I yes yes has he ever no not mark when I would know wanted that sweep of love those sensations lust oh god lust desire not since mark and I when young same feelings
A tall, thin woman in her early forties, wearing shorts and tee shirt, jogged through the quiet streets on a Saturday afternoon in early summer. Her eyes stayed only on the way ahead, ignoring the colorful gardens which she usually paused to admire. She ran with the intensity of a marathon runner in training.
the warmth phil’s shirt the sweetness of clean his after shave like an april morning once thought about mark that way stupid stupid 18 years he’ll hate me hate myself divorce not married for life love him kids don’t want divorce it’ll kill him loss of trust never forgive maybe never forget skin on skin his phil’s weight on me pressing down like spinning falling in love no not love not with phil his wanting me that’s it his wanting pulled me toward him lost reason won’t be the same afterwards a strain cold silence days weeks months maybe we’ll pretend for the kids and friends won’t work why tell guilt that’s it no good to tell why did I do it should have stopped could have stopped mouth against mouth tongue touching tongue hand on my breast in my blouse stop remembering too quick that tingle the quivering never again will I ever forget forget forget think of mark the kids don’t tell unbearable afterwards punishment mark’s hatred disgust disappointment it’s done move on confess to a priest after all these years confession remember before with mark every week bless me father embarrassed to tell priest I have sinned say five our fathers and five hail marys promise never do it again every week broke promise mark and I hurt no one not now hurt mark that old priest bored yawning all the time different then married now confess to mark no to priest must tell someone need forgiveness priest will forgive god will forgive yes tell a priest tell mark I don’t know I don’t know * * * In the church vestibule it took her a couple of minutes to adjust her eyes to the dim light. It was a quick decision to break her run and enter the church. She walked down the side aisle to the confessional and stood in line. She sensed the disapproving looks from the other penitents, but if she had gone home to change out of her running clothes, she would not have returned. When she had seen the five other people waiting, she almost did leave, but with two priests hearing confessions they were in and out quickly. Two elderly women in black, a stout middle-aged man and two young boys. What did they have to confess? Gossip about the neighbors, swearing, cheating in school? She would leave . Now. “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost,” the priest said upon sliding back the small panel. “Bless me father for I have sinned. It’s been…” She couldn’t remember how many years exactly. Ten, twelve. She quickly whispered her words and had to repeat them for the priest hadn’t heard her at first. Then the words came in a rush. Their meeting, their attraction their sin. Her sin. What was said afterwards was already blurring in her mind, the priest’s voice, neutral and non-condemning, her voice, small like a scared child. It was over, out there for the priest and God, but not for Mark. Penance. Yes, penance. Five Our Fathers and Five Hail Marys. Or was it ten each? Kneeling in a pew she said ten. * * * Mark was in the patio cleaning the grill when she arrived home. The sounds of a baseball game came from the family room and music from one of the bedrooms telling her the children were home as well. She prepared two gins and tonic and took them outside. “You were a long time on your run today,” Mark said accepting the drink and her kiss. Sitting at a table which was already set for dinner she looked down at the bricks as she formed her answer. “Honey? Anything wrong?” “Mark, would you mind if I began going to church again?” “What brought this about?” “On impulse I went into St. Catherine’s Church on the way home. I sat there and began thinking maybe I would go again. I mean… Life has been good to me. To us. I’m grateful for everything. For you, the kids, our life, Everything.” She looked at Mark looking at her. “I thought…I don’t know. Maybe I should acknowledge all my blessings. Not take them for granted.” Mark, his bewilderment obvious by the tilt of his head and the questioning in his eyes, stopped cleaning the grill. “I know your feelings about religion,” she continued, “but you didn’t care if I practiced mine when we first married. After a while I started making excuses. Too busy with kids, with work. Too tired. Then I got out of the habit. I just…I don’t know…I thought…” “Look,” Mark said, coming to sit next to her at the table and take both her hands into his. “If you want to go to church, go. You don’t need my permission. If it makes you feel better to practice your faith, then do it. I won’t interfere.” “I’ll get the steaks and make a salad,” she said getting up quickly before she shed the tears she knew would flow if she stayed another minute. * * * will be o.k. think of the future won’t tell where’s the oil should I make rice or garlic bread kids like that will make it up to mark be more attentive more loving was so stupid stop thinking get dinner think of the early days sex every night practically what for desert ice cream hot fudge yes got enough take time for love sounds like dear abbey should I no won’t write dear abbey my problem won’t tell mark decided thank god for mark a good man must keep marriage
“Would you bring out the steaks?” Mark called from outside. “Coming. Becky, Steve. Get ready for dinner.”
too much to lose one mistake a whopper take all life to forget never forgive myself my life my guilt |
